The Words in the Silence
by IrrationallySpeaking
Summary: Booth has nightmares, but are they really nightmares? Set somewhere right after the Season Five Premiere. Booth trusts Cam to help him on his way, some hardships, some fluff, some angst. This is a Birthday story for my friend Katrina; by partner in crime with non-canon and doomed couples.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Just letting anyone who reads this know that it is indeed a birthday fic for my friend Katrina, I will only be updating a few times and reviews are not necessary but I guess if you want to give them feel free? Thanks for reading!**

PT I

Booth woke up breathless, exhausted and exasperated. The nightmares were only getting worse. He wondered if they would ever go away.

Ever since the coma he'd been having such vivid dreams; they were feeling more like visions. He could taste, smell, feel everything that was going on around him. He shakily sat up and hung his legs over the right side of his bed. Trying to gain his breath back, Booth used every breathing technique in the book. He held his breath, he did the short breaths one tells a mother-to-be to do, he took long inhales and short exhales, short inhales and long exhales, he took deep inhales and exhales but none of it helped. Of course, when did it ever?

Booth began to feel less flushed as he stood up, but he was still dizzy. He stood still for what felt like hours, but really it was merely moments; it was until the feeling of dizziness had overcome him. He looked at his clock; 4:47am. Too late to go back to sleep, but too early to do anything else. Booth ran his hands through his greasy hair; it was Monday, he was given the weekend off and decided to spend it drinking beers, watching hockey, giving no shit about personal hygiene and doing anything he could to not fall asleep.

He needed to be at the FBI for 6:00, so he decided the best thing to do would be to have a shower. He walked steadily into his bathroom and flicked the light switch. The light was so bright it blinded him, although the light being as bright as it always was, it was just his corneas taking the rough impact. Booth looked at himself in the mirror, he looked like shit. His sweaty, greasy hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes had black bags under them. He hoped he could clean himself up well enough to at least look professional.

Booth stripped himself of his boxer shorts; the only clothing he wore to bed. He learned from early on that if he wore anything else he would feel like he was on fire. The only downside to not wearing anything were the scratches. Booth unconsciously scratched at his skin while he slept. Unfortunately, he did leave marks; everywhere. Today was particularly awful. He had one long incision, courtesy of his fingernails, from wrist to inner elbow, and boy it stung. Booth had only noticed its appearance when he had turned on the tap and the water came gushing out. The water's purity viciously sent pain throughout Booth's arm.

Booth sighed as he stepped into the shower, knowing that there would only be more numbing pain until he stepped out once again. First thing he did was grab the soap; he scrubbed himself from head to toe. After he became one with the pain he let the water rush over his every crevice until the sight of the cleaner was gone. Next he grabbed the shampoo and massaged his oily head. The grime slowly oozed out of it as Booth stood under the running water.

Booth wasn't one for singing in the shower; he was more one for thinking. As Booth stood, he became lost in the rush of the water and the sound of it patting against his skin. He thought about his life, his actions, his words, his feelings. He didn't like what was happening to him. It was in the past, why wasn't it staying there? He gladly and honourably served his country but the things he did, even when there was no other option, he wanted to forget; why was it so hard to forget?

Booth had never had trouble with repressing his memories before but now, now they were all resurfacing. He didn't know why, just that everything came back after the coma. He wanted, no, _needed_, someone to talk to. But who? And why? And when, and where, and how? There were so many questions, and no time to answer.

Booth drifted back to reality when he noticed the change in temperature of the water. His apartment was shit, nothing ever stayed the same. Water changed, air conditioning changed, even the damn key had to be replaced every few months. Booth scrubbed himself once more, rinsed off, and turned off the tap. He stepped out, grabbed his towel and began to dry himself off. He wiped his hands on the foggy mirror and took a look at himself. He still had the bags, but at least he was clean. Floor squeaking, he walked back into his bedroom and grabbed his outfit for the day; black dress pants, white cuffed shirt, black jacket, "Stewie" boxer shorts, pinstriped socks and the watch his grandfather gave to him. He threw his clothes on the bed, and began to dress himself. He dressed the way he always had; the way he learned in the army. Socks, boxers, pants, all necessary in case of a raid through headquarters; then deodorant, dress shirt, watch and jacket.

Booth stepped back into the misty bathroom and grabbed his gel from the cupboard. He squirted the goo onto his hands, rubbed it in, and applied it to his hair. Booth's hair was naturally wavy, so he needed the gel to keep it in line. After the gel started to harden, Booth left his hair how it was and walked into his kitchen; if you could even call it that.

Lately, Booth had been living off take-out. He had absolutely no food. He had maybe two apples in his fridge, rotten by no doubt. The only thing he had left was coffee, and lately, that was the only thing his stomach would take in the morning. Booth stirred the liquid and went back to his thoughts from earlier in the shower. If he were to talk, who to? He needed to, obviously, but he didn't know how. _That's precious_, he thought_, just walk right up to Sweets and say "I've been having memories of torturing and being tortured lately, and I can remember every single detail, and sometimes, I enjoy it" yes, because that's great. Get the shrink on your tail about 'murderous impulses'. No thanks_.

Booth looked down to his now cooled coffee and took a tender sip. The heat from the drink rushed through his esophagus, and may have, if possible, burnt him. Booth slammed the mug down on his counter and walked toward his television. He turned on the news channel and the time in the bottom left corner read 5:36am. Still a half hour until he had to be at headquarters, Booth decided to leave early. He left the coffee mug, and he had hoped his anger, on the counter.

He locked the door to his apartment, and flipped open his cell phone; no messages. Walking down the stairs, Booth's headache came back. The one he had every day; always painful, but varying to different degrees. _Good thing there's aspirin in the car_, he thought.

Grabbing his keys out of his pocket, Booth unlocked the Sequoia and stepped in. Before putting the keys in ignition, Booth took one last look at himself in the mirror. Still looked like shit, but at least he was bearable for work. Opening the glove box, Booth took the lid off the bottle and shook out three pills. He took them dry, and turned the keys to start the car.

When Booth got to the Hoover he set the car in park and maneuvered around the underground prison. Entering the elevator, he sighed but was joyful to find himself alone; last thing he wanted was to make small talk with some agent. Getting to his floor, Booth ran his left hand through his hair and walked toward his office.

There were few agents in the bullpen, Booth was glad of that. He wasn't feeling great and if one of them tried to come over and suck up to him he would probably lose it. Opening to door to his office, he shut it right behind him. He wanted people to know he was in a no-meet mode. Sitting down in his chair, Booth looked at all of the paperwork on his desk; he needed to do it, but at the moment, it was really the last thing on his mind. Something caught his eye; it was a profile Sweets left him for the case they had started.

A child's remains were found lodged under a dock, and as usual Bones did her examination. Obviously cause of death was asphyxiation; Booth didn't understand why she couldn't call it 'drowning'. Apparently there was a difference, but Booth didn't really care. On the bright Friday afternoon they brought the remains back to the lab, Booth was less than optimistic. He made rude comments to the squints, he left his keys on Brennan's slab. She yelled at him that he might 'compromise the evidence' and told him to leave. Booth found himself walking outside of Cam's office and she noticed him slunk by. She was the one that told him to take a break, possibly the weekend off. He listened.

_That's it!_ Booth thought. _I can talk to her! I hope…_ Flipping to the part that actually mattered in Sweets' review Booth found himself distracted. He finally thought of who he could talk to about his problems. He knew Cam wouldn't tell, she'd told him enough things that he kept secret. Now he just needed to think on how to go about the subject, he couldn't just walk in and say "I've been thinking about murdering people lately, want to go for pizza?"

A knock on the door brought Booth back to reality, but Booth frowned as he saw the young psychologist smile at him through the glass. Booth waved his hand in the most unenthusiastic way that was possible to man. Sweets opened the door and shut it behind him lightly, obviously the agent needed privacy. "Hello Agent Booth" the young man greeted him. Booth groaned. "Something the matter?" the psychologist questioned. "See what you did there Sweets, you called me Agent Booth which means this is business and I don't really want to talk business so if you wouldn't mind leaving…" Booth said as he flipped mindlessly through papers.

"Actually Booth this is business and you're coming with me because it seems that you have forgotten we had a meeting this morning."

"Shit, we had a meeting?" Booth croaked. He wasn't telling this kid anything that was going on inside his head.

"Yes, we did. Seven sharp so that you could get a head start to the Jeffersonian but I guess you forgot about that also." Sweets inquired.

Booth looked at his watch; 7:53. Where the hell was the time going?

"Well, sorry Sweets, but I should head off to Bones." Booth grumbled.

"Actually, Agent Booth it's come to my attention that seeing Doctor Brennan at this time would be of no benefit to you."

"And why the hell do you say that?!" Booth argued. This was most certainly _not _a good morning.

"I have been told that you are becoming a nuisance at the lab, and I want to ask you what is going on."

"Nothing's going on; I just want to get to my people!" Booth exclaimed. If he didn't leave he was going to blow his top at this kid.

"Booth, in times of emotional distress it is known for people to become angry, irrational, out of breath, lose sleep and lose weight. Please tell me Booth, what categories do you fall under? Because I can tell you right now I see you in three."

"Yeah, keep telling me what's wrong me and you might just see more than the usual." Booth threatened.

"Booth, I am not scared of your alpha-male tendencies. I've actually grown quite accustomed to them. But before you set off to find Doctor Brennan, tell me what's on your mind."

"What's on my mind," the agent said leaning in closer and closer to the psychologist, removing any signs of a personal bubble, "is that I need to see Bones. Have a nice day, Sweets." He replied bitterly before opening the door and with no attempt to shut it. The boy could close it himself.

The doors to the elevator couldn't close soon enough, as the psychologist came running out of the office. "Agent Booth," he panted, "we still need to make up for your missed meeting."

"Yeah, sure thing Sweets. Pencil me in" the agent replied lamely as the doors shut, Sweets leaving his sight.

Still wondering where the time had gone, Booth pulled into early-morning DC traffic. "Perfect" he muttered, turning on the radio. There was nothing Booth found interesting. He hated country, hated pop, and every rock station had their DJ's on the air. Booth shut off the device and slammed his hand against the wheel.

After sitting in traffic for 15 minutes, Booth had enough of this ridiculousness. He flipped on his lights, turned on the sirens and pulled out from behind the Volkswagen that had graced him with its vibrant presence. To his surprise, cars moved out of the way. Booth was at the Jeffersonian in no less than 10 minutes.

Walking into the sanctuary, Booth took no time stop for smiles. He was right down to business. He was so involved in getting himself to Brennan he walked right onto the platform steps without swiping his card. The buzzers went off, the lights started flashing, all of the guards came running and that left one angry Brennan staring at Booth.

"Booth…" Brennan steamed, "get off my platform."

"Whoa, hey Bones. I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to rush, well actually I did, it was to get away from Sweets… you know what I mean right?" Booth flashed what he thought was his charm smile.

"No. I don't."

"I was just rushing to see you, that's all…" Booth rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well Booth if I needed you I would have called you. I don't need you right now so get off my platform. Thank you."

"Well, uh, okay."

Booth slugged down the steps, the security guards frowning as he did so. Booth was looking down as he walked right into Hodgins. "Hodgi-" Booth looked down, "what the fu-"

"Whoa! Sorry man…" the entomologist replied lamely as he looked down at the excrement smudges on Booth's white shirt.

"Honestly! I'm taking a break!" Booth bellowed as he walked out of his embarrassment's prison.

Booth was almost home-free when sensed he was being followed. Booth turned around with the slightest bit of effort when he saw Cam marching toward him. "You know, Cam, right now really isn't the best time."

"You know, Boo-" the coroner chuckled, "is that what I think it is?"

"Oh, and more…" Booth replied.

"Well I was just coming to tell you that Sweets called, apparently he is free for a meeting right now." Cam said curiously.

"Yeah, well, tell him I don't need it."

"It sounded pretty serious, Seeley" Cam said, tone turning personal.

"Well, _Camille_, tell him I don't want it nor do I need it."

"Nor? Seeley you only use proper grammar when something's wrong. I know you."

Booth sighed as he felt his mind surrender. "I'll talk about it later…" the agent murmured walking toward his car.

"I'll be waiting!" Cam hollered, still unsure of whether she should leave him in the obvious state of trouble he was in.


	2. Chapter 2

PT II

**AN: I've got some lyrics for this chapter, so check the song out! Brave by Sara Bareilles.**

_Or you can start speaking up__  
__Nothing's gonna hurt you the way that words do__  
__And they settle 'neath your skin__  
__Kept on the inside and no sunlight__  
__Sometimes a shadow wins__  
__But I wonder what would happen if you_

_Say what you wanna say__  
__And let the words fall out__  
__Honestly I wanna see you be brave_

Booth wiped the grease off his chin as he finished off his burger. What better way to forget than eating? The burger was gross but he bought so he ate. Booth didn't know what time it was, and he didn't care. He sat in the diner, flipped his phone open and held on to the power button. He knew who would call and he knew he didn't want to talk. Finally, the phone turned on and Booth was rudely awakened to the buzzing left from six calls from Cam, two from Brennan and three from Sweets. Obviously the ones left by Brennan were just business so he decided to listen to the one message she had left him.

To sum it up; they found some evidence.

From Booth's perspective he got; some knick in the bone, some fiber found by Hodgins and Cam had a personal question. The first two he was interested in; the third he was less than enthusiastic about. He wanted to talk, he really did, but he just didn't know how.

But yet, Booth knew how. He was just something he wouldn't admit to himself let alone anyone; he was scared.

These impulses, what were they? Why were they only triggered now? It had to be the coma. Booth just didn't know what to do anymore. He leant back in his chair and waved his hand at the waitress signaling he was ready to pay the check. Booth laid the 12.69 on the counter and was ready to leave when he saw Sweets light up at the sight of him. Booth groaned and sunk back down into the chair.

The shrink ran to him breathless, and plopped down in the chair opposite. "We've been very worried about you Agent Booth. You've been gone for hours."

"Really?" Booth said unenthusiastically.

"Yes. We've looked here already so I would guess you have been somewhere else throughout this time."

"Well, you guessed right Sweets" the agent got up and began to walk out.

"Booth!" the psychologist chased after him, "we really need to talk about what you're going through."

"And what exactly would that be, Sweets?" Booth replied as he opened the door out to the street.

"It's obvious that something is wrong, and I would like to know what." Sweets said seriously.

"You know, why don't you come over tonight and watch the game. We could do some drunk talk."

"Booth," Sweets grabbed his arm lightly, "we need to talk. It has grown increasingly obvious to me that it is difficult for you to even handle whatever the hell you're trying to handle and you are going to need help."

"Help is for damaged veterans, Sweets!" the agent exploded, "I am not damaged and I sure as hell do not need help. I am not broken, I am not stupid, and I am not homeless. Why do I need help! I haven't needed it before, I don't need it now! Oh, sure I'm going through emotional stress, trying being in war, Sweets! Maybe, just for one hour, if you saw the hell I went through then you might understand! Try blowing off the head of a child soldier, huh? I'll give you a gun and I'll call my buddy at the Pentagon and I'll get you suited up and you can go blow away some fucking kid who's only shooting because the warlord has his sister in captivity! How about that? You want that, Sweets? I'll fucking give it to you." Booth shoved his phone into the psychologists chest and yelled "Speed dial number six, Sweets. Go at it!"

Booth strut to his SUV, slammed the car door, rolled down the passenger window and screamed "And after all that, try getting a fucking brain tumor!"

Booth drove away and Sweets was left awestruck.

Cam walked into the liquor store, and walked past the man behind the counter, "Hey Sal, don't have a key. Is through here okay?" The man nodded, and Cam walked right into the back. Walking up the stairs, her heels clicking, Cam thought about the irony of the situation; Booth lived above a liquor store after being abused from a man who drank the liquid for years.

Booth needed a break. He underwent surgery and only went under five weeks of recovery unlike the ten or eleven he was supposed to.

Walking past the other rooms on the floor, Cam finally got to 8A. He would be here; of course he would. He was nowhere else, so of course he was here. Cam took in a deep breath and rapped her knuckles on the door. She heard movement, and her sigh of relief was more than audible as Booth walked toward the door.

Booth knew it was Cam. She knocked on the door the same way every time she did so. Three sharp knocks and then silence. Booth wouldn't have answered the door if it was anyone else. But it was _her_. He could trust her.

Looking through the peephole just in case, Booth opened the door with a beer in his hand; little did Cam know it was his sixth. Booth only opened the door a few inches and murmured out a greeting.

"Booth, let me in" Cam said seriously.

"Why."

"You promised me we would talk so I'm coming in."

"I did?"

"Yeah; move."

"Okay."

Booth backed up and let the pathologist in. He was a slave at his own demise, either he let her in to beat him up or he'd beat himself up.

"Want one?" Booth pointed to the more-than-half empty 12 pack.

"Uh, no…" Cam gawked at the left over beers.

The two sat down on the couch in their usual spots; right beside each other. Cam turned to Booth and said uneasily, "Seeley, you have to let me in. What's spinning up there?"

Booth just looked at her, he wanted to, he had to; but he couldn't. "My head just hurts" he squawked out.

"Yeah, and so does mine. I've been worried about you, Booth. You just exploded from Sweets and haven't been heard from since then."

"How long ago was that?" Booth rubbed his eyes with his empty hand.

"About four hours ago; Seeley it's dark outside."

"Been gone that long, huh?"

"Yes; and I want to know where you've been."

"Oh, just here and there," Booth chuckled, "to the moon and back you could say."

"Booth how many beers have you had"

"Just a couple…" he placed the half drunk one on the coffee table.

"And how many's 'a couple'?"

Booth surrendered, "this is the seventh".

Cam sighed, "Booth, why are you doing this to yourself? You just got back out there. Do you need more time off because I think you do. You're tired; very tired, and it's very obvious."

"Yeah, I know."

"Booth I don't want you drinking, it could be bad for your healing."

"I'm already healed, Camille!" Booth's tone thunderous.

"Okay, Seeley, see this is what you went off at Sweets abou-"

"Yeah I bet it's on the fucking news by now." Booth's anger beginning to surface.

Cam placed her hands on either side of Booth's cheeks. She learned a trick or two about controlling his anger when they were together. Booth was a people person; he connected through touch. When he was lost he just needed a simple touch to gain himself back. She could tell he was beginning to lose control. Booth would never hit her, she knew it, but he would most definitely destroy something else. His gaze shifted to hers and calmly Cam said, "I'm no shrink Seeley, but I know you're going through something and there are obvious symptoms to whatever the hell it is."

"I don't want to talk about it," his breath soiled with the scent of beer, "you'll think I'm going crazy- _I _think I'm going crazy."

"You aren't crazy…" Cam replied as she rubbed her thumbs over his stubble, "is the anger gone, Booth?"

"No it's still there; it's always there. I-I can't escape it."

"You can, Seeley, you can. I've seen you control it." Cam said as she brought her hands away from his face and into her lap.

Booth frowned at the loss of contact and warmth but mentioned nothing of it. "Um…" he said, "I'm having dreams."

"What kind of dreams?"

"Bad ones."

Booth stood up off the couch and walked toward his bedroom. Cam understood; he didn't want to talk, but he would. Later, he would.

Cam watched him as he struggled to get his intoxicated self under the covers and smiled a sad smile. He was hurting and she needed to know why. Only time would tell; she told herself. Cam was walking toward the door when she heard it; the plead.

That little cry; his soft voice forming the word; 'stay'.


	3. Chapter 3

PT III

**AN: I've got some more lyrics for this chapter; I hope they suit well with what you're picturing! Mad Season by Matchbox 20.**

_So are you gonna stand there?_

_Or are you gonna help me out?_

_We need to be together now_

_I need you now_

_Do you think you can cope? You figured me out?_

_That I'm lost and I'm hopeless_

_I'm bleeding and broken though I've never spoken_

_I come undone in this mad season_

Cam rolled over on the couch; it was uncomfortable but it was bearable. After she heard the whisper, she couldn't leave. She knew she had to, but she wouldn't; she couldn't.

She knew where to get the blankets and extra pillows; Booth's apartment was cold, very cold; she needed to layer up. Suddenly, Cam's phone buzzed just as she was finding peace. She was thankful it was only a text, because she didn't want to wake Booth up; his sleep, although restless, was still sleep. Cam flipped open the device and read the message:

NEW EVIDENCE- COME TO LAB

DID YOU FIND BOOTH?

-BRENNAN

Cam new it was wrong, but she was staying right where she was. The resident pathologist could help them out:

FOUND BOOTH, STAYING WITH HIM

FIND SANDY

SORRY

-CAM

Cam got up off the couch and decided it was best to check on Booth. She'd been lying for about an hour on the uncomfortable couch. She slowly opened the door and it squeaked as always. She laid her eyes upon a sleeping form and walked over to it. Booth was on his back; that was bad. The last thing he needed was to be choking on his own vomit.

Cam leaned over him and grabbed his right shoulder and pulled him toward her. Booth stirred, but did not wake. When she finally got him on his side she fixed the covers and took one last look at his tired body. Cam longed to touch him again, she always missed him. She was the one who broke it off, and she regretted it ever since. He was such an alpha male when it came to her; Cam just guessed she didn't like to be put on a pedestal. She wasn't a princess, she wasn't untouchable; but he treated her as so and Cam just got tired of it.

Lost in her thoughts, Cam didn't notice that Booth had awoken from his rude change of position. He hadn't opened his eyes, but he knew she was there. He heard her breath, her soft inhales and exhales; it calmed him. Finally he opened his eyes, and brought Cam back to reality. "Lost in space?" he whispered.

Cam jumped. "Seeley, I-I didn't know you woke. I'm sorry."

"Why are you in here?"

"I just rolled you onto your side; I didn't want you to choke." Cam blushed, if only he knew what she was thinking.

"Well, thanks…" Booth said awkwardly, knowing it was only hours after he pleaded her to stay.

"No problem…" Cam returned the emotion.

Neither turned away as they left themselves in a somewhat comfortable silence for a few minutes until Booth said, "Um, you can have the bed, because I-I really want you to stay, and you're… you're probably not comfortable on my leather couch."

"Well it's not a lie" Cam replied, "but it's fine, please, you stay in the bed you really need some rest."

"No. I've had enough rest," Booth stood up, "you're going to lie down in this bed and warm up because even if you tell me you're warm the bumps on your arms tell me different," he walked away, "and I'll get you something because you're obviously not comfortable sleeping in whatever kind of tight name brand you've got on."

Cam looked down, she hadn't even noticed that she was in her newest 'Dior' outfit; almost 1000 dollars no less. "Seeley…"

"Don't 'Seeley' me. I'm fine and you're uncomfortable. Now hold on a minute."

"Fine."

Booth opened up the top drawer in his dresser. He surfed through it and unfortunately didn't find what he was looking for. "Uhm…"

"What?"

"I don't have any shorts clean… Is- is a pair of my boxers okay?" he cleared his throat.

Booth wasn't going to lie to himself; Cam was only looking better by the day. Picturing her in his boxers might not be the best thing right now, but unfortunately it was what fate left them.

"I guess, yes."

Booth grabbed a pair he rarely wore anymore, closed the top drawer and opened the third. He grabbed the smallest t-shirt he could find as quick as he could so the silence would end.

"Well, here…"

"Thanks…"

Booth said nothing more, Cam knew where the bathroom was; Cam knew where everything was. Cam knew everything about him; except what was happening now. He had to tell her; that's it, he was going to.

Booth walked as purposely as a drunk man could to his bathroom door. "Um, Cam?"

"Seeley- uh, I'll be out in a minute!"

"No, it's fine, take your time. I just wanted to tell you that I'm ready to talk now…"

"Booth, you're drunk, you probably can't even think properly."

"But I can if I try. I want to tell you."

Cam opened the door, and Booth was lost in the past. Memories flooded him of what they had, what they lost and how they lost it. Booth couldn't get out; he was trapped in his mind. Visions of them together flashed in front of his eyes; he was cooking eggs for her birthday, no, he was tackling her into the beautiful green grass, no, now he was making love to her. More and more images flew everywhere and Booth fell to the ground.

Cam was stunned. Booth was on the floor in seconds. She didn't know what to do. She dealt with dead bodies, not live ones. She just ran to him and knelt beside him. She did everything she thought of; she grabbed him, shook him, hugged him, tried to stand him up, but nothing worked. Cam was lost and she was beginning to lose control, what the hell was she supposed to do?

Sweets.

She could call Sweets.

She knew Booth would hate her, probably never talk to her again but she didn't know what to do. Sweets was the only answer she could think of.

Cam ran to the coffee table across from Booth's couch and grabbed her phone. She flipped it open and ran back to Booth. He was still on the ground, his eyes blank. Cam was growing more and more scared as she sorted through her contacts; she couldn't find Sweets. She wanted to cry; was it too late? Booth didn't look okay but he looked alive. Finally, she found the psychologist's number and pressed 'call'. Four rings, the four longest rings of her life and he answered:

"Hello?"

"Sweets?"

"Yes"

"It's Dr. Saroyan, I need your- we need your help right now. I found Booth, we're in his apartment, he-he's blanked out he just fell to the ground and I don't know what to do. I've leant him against the wall but his eyes aren't responsive. I think he's lost in his mind."

"Oh, god. You're in his apartment?"

"Yes, do you know where it is, Sweets?"

"I do. I'll be there in less than 15 minutes."

"The door is unlocked we're around the first corner on the right. Hurry, please."

Cam hung up. She needed to turn her attention back to Booth. He was still limp, it was like he was sleeping, but his eyes were open and they were scared. Cam sat down beside him and rubbed his arm. All they needed was Sweets; he would know what to do, he had to.

Cam counted the minutes; it had been nine since she called Sweets. She kept more calm on the outside than she did on the inside. She successfully held back her tears and kept a varied amount of composure in the moments she awaited Sweets' arrival.

Finally, after 13 minutes, Sweets rushed through the door, almost passing the couple on the floor.

"Uh, Dr. Saroyan?" Sweets questioned as she saw her attire.

"Not now, Sweets," she stood up, "I'll explain it later, just look at him. He hasn't moved since he collapsed."

"Jesus…" Sweets announced as he dropped his jacket and knelt down in front of Booth.

"There's a pulse" Cam admitted nervously.

"That's great, we can tell the paramedics when they get here."

"The wha- You called the paramedics?!"

"Yes. Dr. Saroyan I am most certainly not equipped with what's happening here. I came after the fall. I wasn't here to witness what happened before. Were there any specific words he said, actions he made or slight shift in emotion?"

"Yes, but he is not going to be happy that you called officials. Booth hates the hospital, and he hates being forced to go there. He's going to hate you for calling them, and he's going to hate me for calling you who called them" Cam shot out.

"Okay, Cam, calm down. Slow down, there's nothing we can do. I can look up the symptoms and come back to you about the possibilities of what it might be. All we can do now is wait."

"He is not going to be happy about this. He going to wake up tomorrow and rip all of the IV's out of his arms and just trudge out; I hope you know that."

"Well how could I have known that? You can't just call someone and tell them that someone who just had a major brain surgery crashed on the floor and is unresponsive!" Sweets squeaked.

"I thought you would know what to do! I'm sorry… My head's just spinning right now." Cam's head surrendered to her hands.

"Loved ones tend to lose control over emotion when-"

"Oh, don't 'loved one' me crap. Something's obviously wrong, Sweets!"

"I'm sorry." Sweets leaned against the wall, looking into Booth's lost eyes.

"Do you- do you think he's still in there?" Cam whispered.

"Well, um- in my professional opinion, I truly think he can hear everything we're saying."

Cam let out a deep breath. She walked toward Booth and wiped some sweat falling onto his brow. As she did so there was a fierce knock on the door; the paramedics.

When the stretcher was brought in, and the professionals drowned Booth in their swarm he woke. From wherever the hell he was, he woke and he was scared.

Shaking and sweating, he wouldn't let them touch him.

Cam didn't know what to do, she felt awful.

Would she ever be able to help him if all he did was get lost?


	4. Chapter 4

PT IV

**AN: A few more lyrics! Hope you don't hate me for adding so many!**

**I also had a really hard time writing the flashback; it's so not my style. I wanted to stop writing it, it was so hard, and I felt like deleting it when I was finished. The flashback I would rate as M and not for fun times. If you aren't comfortable with it, please skip forward.**

_So by the light of the moon she rubs her eyes_

_Sits down on the bed and starts to cry_

_And I don't know what I'm supposed to do_

_So I sit down and I cry too_

_But don't let her see_

Cam just stared at the men and women trying to interact with Booth. They wouldn't let her in, which was foolish, because she was probably the only one, no; she _was_ the only one he would trust out of the blurb of people.

Cam wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry. She knew one thing for certain; they weren't getting Booth up off that floor. There was some specific rule that the staff couldn't take the patient until they gave consent after the patient had an episode; Cam didn't remember what it was called but she remembered that there was one.

Booth needed help, now. That's all that was on Cam's mind. She didn't care. She was going to push her way through the paramedics like a rugby player running through the scrum to get the winning try. Cam walked right up to the officers huddling around Booth; she wondered if he could breath they were so close. She stuck her two arms out and plied two of the officers in her way apart from each other to make room for herself.

"Ma'am. You are going to need to stay back." One of them requested rather harshly.

"You aren't getting this 200 pound lug off the floor if I don't get over there" Cam snapped back.

The man raised his brow, "Alright, then. This way please."

Cam walked calmly until she saw Booth, then she went into a full-on sprint. She did slow down in front of him; she didn't want to scare him as well. When she got close enough, she saw that Booth was perfectly fine; just a little shaken up. Obviously he had denied their request to take him to the hospital. Cam wanted to know how he was perfect now, but just 15 minutes ago he was gone. She was going to ask.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Really? Because I don't think so."

"Why? I just fell asleep and woke up finding all of these weird medical people around me. I'm pretty sure even you would be scared waking up and seeing people you've never seen before huddled right up to your face."

Cam was puzzled. Didn't he remember what happened? "Seeley, don't you- don't you find it odd that you woke up on the floor?"

"Not really."

"Well I need to tell you something; you didn't fall asleep. But one thing you did do was fall."

"How did I not fall asleep? I dreamed."

"Did you?"

"Um, yes… So are you going to tell me why all the paras are here?"

"Because you just passed out, Seeley. One moment you were talking to me and the next you were just gone. You fell to the floor and made no move since. I had to sit you up."

"No. You didn't. I obviously just fell asleep and when you came out of the bathroom you were worried."

"Booth, rationally, why would I call the _paramedics_ if you just fell asleep? Plus, it wasn't even me who called them."

"Really? Did Casper do it? He's been bugging me lately too." Booth smiled.

"Booth this is serious. Your eyes were glazed over and you weren't responsive. The only thing that proved to me you were alive was your pulse, but even with a pulse you still could have been comatose."

"That's crazy!" he looked up to her, "I fell asleep. I can even tell you what my dreams were about!"

"Even so, Booth, you didn't fall asleep. Sweets can back me up."

Booth stood, slowly but effectively, as Cam was intimidated as she looked up.

"You brought Sweets into this?" his breath hit her forehead.

"I called him because I thought he would know what to do! I didn't know what to do, Seeley! You looked like you were dead and I was so fucking scared. I just didn't know what to do…"

"Well, I'm not dead, Camille. I'm right here. And whatever the hell happened, obviously I'm okay so you can tell all of these paras to leave."

"They aren't leaving until they do the routine. Told me so."

Booth groaned. "There's nothing wrong; see?" he flashed his world famous charm smile.

"Booth…"

"You're sure it's the only way they'll leave?"

"Positive."

"Fine" Booth said as he walked toward one of the officers. He tapped him unenthusiastically on the shoulder and the man looked as relieved as any. He pointed Booth to the stretcher and Booth basically moved as fast as a slug on antibiotics. Booth hated medical personnel, everything to do with them.

Cam knew why. When Booth and Jared were little they were beaten a lot. One time it was Booth's idea to go to the police station and report his father. He was 11; he didn't know what to do. The officer he talked to didn't believe him, he thought he was just another kid who wanted to see the inside of the police station. But Booth pleaded, his head held high; being strong for his brother. Jared, 7, stood coward behind Booth.

"_My dad hits us," he said, "we have the bruises to prove it" and Booth lifted his shirt and showed the man his scars and fresh wounds. "It looks nothing more than you fell down the stairs, kid!" the man laughed back at him. "Why are you laughing?" Booth inquired. "This is real! Our hurt is real!"_

_The officer had to admit, the kid had some balls coming down here to tell him off like this. _

"_Alright, let me tell you this, kid. I'll call on my buddy who drives an ambulance and he'll drive you to the hospital. If the nurses or doctors say you have some really serious shit going on I'll check it out."_

"_Good." Booth replied hotly as he crossed his arms._

_Ten minutes later the 11 and 7 year olds were in the back of an ambulance and being driven to the hospital. Booth held on to Jared's hand. Jared always told Booth "Seeley, I hate it when you do that. Chicks do that!" but today, he was glad. _

_The two were dropped off at the emergency sector, which was already bad because they weren't in need of immediate treatment. The building was so big; Booth didn't know where to go. Holding his brother's hand and keeping his composure, the boys walked right into the emergency building. A lady in white came running up to them, "Boys! What's wrong? Why are you here? Are you hurt?"_

"_A policeman sent us here." Booth said proudly. _

"_Do you know why, sweetie?"_

"_Because I told him my dad hurts us and we've got the bruises to prove it," Booth said lifting up both his and his brother's shirts, "and he said to show you and if there was any funky shit he would go see our dad."_

"_Excuse me, sweetie. But you don't talk like that here. And also, you're in the wrong department. This is for emergencies."_

"_Is abuse not an emergency?" the boy thundered back. All that were near took a look at the two little boys with shirts held up arguing with the nurse. _

_Nervously, the nurse replied, "Well, yes, sweetie, but this isn't the department for it. You need to walk through the front doors. Would you like me to take you there?" she finished, lowering Booth's hands so the boys were no longer exposed to her. _

_Booth stood up straight, grabbing back onto his brother's hand, "That would be great, lady. Thank you."_

_The nurse faked a smile to the boys and began to walk them through the hallways. After a few minutes of silence that the boys were comfortable with, the nurse asked, "What's your names'?"_

_Proudly, Booth replied, "I, ma'am, am Seeley Joseph Booth, and this here is my brother Jared."_

"_Seeley, that's an odd name…"_

"_It's not a girl's name" Booth replied back quickly. Everyone at school was always telling him it was a girl's name and that his parents must hate him. The second part was true, Booth knew that. But the first part, no. Booth was proud of his name; in fact, he liked it. _

"_No, I'm not saying that, Sweetie," the nurse replied, "who gave you that name?"_

"_I don't know. And I don't care because I hate both my parents." Booth said untruthfully. He loved his mother but she left, that meant she had to hate him, which in turn, made him hate her back. _

"_Oh, that's not a good thing. It's never nice to say you hate someone, Seeley."_

"_It's true…" whispered Jared._

"_It's better to say 'I don't like'."_

"_Well I didn't choose to hate them on purpose!" Booth screamed back._

_The nurse turned around, awestruck. "Sweetie, I'm sorry. Whatever you've been through is obviously horrible, so why don't we stop talking about it, huh?" the nurse knelt down to the boys._

"_Okay." Booth replied; unknowing of what was about to happen next._

_Little did the two boys know that they were in the corner of the hospital. No one came down here. It was the left wing, it was basically shut down._

_The nurse asked them, "So, how do you boys feel about girls?"_

"_They're gross." Jared replied right back._

"_I don't know, I like them. Why?"_

"_What if I were to show you how good girls really are?"_

"_How would you do that?" Booth replied._

"_Like this…" the lady replied, grabbing Booth's free hand and pulling it to her breast._

"_Um… what are you doing, lady?"_

"_I'm going to make you feel good, Seeley."_

_Booth thought for a moment. He was tired of feeling sad so he shook his head and said 'okay'._

_Booth didn't know what was about to happen, even if he did; he was 11, what the hell was he supposed to do about it?_

_The nurse told him to let go of Jared's hand, Booth complied. She grabbed Booth's other hand and brought it to her remaining breast. "Touch me" the nurse said._

"_I am…" Booth replied confusingly. His mother told him to never touch a girl like this; it was inappropriate. How was this supposed to make him feel good? "Uhm…" the boy said, "I don't think I want to do this anymore. I'm not feeling any better."_

"_But you will, my sweet." The nurse said as she brought him into an abandoned room, "you stay there, Jared, you'll be next okay?" _

_Jared just stood still, but obeyed her order. _

_Once inside the room, Booth became scared. "What are we doing?" he asked unsteadily. _

"_Come here, baby…" the nurse replied with open arms. Booth ran to her. Was this what she meant as feeling good? Because he loved it. He wanted to be held again, he hadn't been held since his mother left, and that was over a year ago. Booth missed her warmth, her glow; her love. Booth didn't notice when the strange lady began to move her hands down his back. _

_They landed on his butt, and Booth looked up at her, confused, "That's my bum!" he said._

"_Yes, it is. I'm going to make you feel good, baby, just wait."_

_Booth didn't know how squeezing his bum would make him feel good, especially since it had just been whipped with a belt. After what felt like hours, Booth grew uncomfortable. She was touching him everywhere. "Are we done now? Because I don't feel good."_

"_No, baby…" the nurse replied. She let go of the boy and walked over to a bed. She lied down and began to undo the buttons on her tight white nurse uniform. _

"_What are you doing?!" Booth shrieked, "I'm not allowed to see that!"_

"_Yes you are, sweetie. I promise."_

"_No! My mom said not to look at a lady when she's naked because it's disrespectful!"_

"_Seeley, calm down baby, I'm giving you permission. I want you to touch me. Everywhere."_

"_That's not right!"_

"_It is baby, I swear…" the alluring woman held out her hand to the boy. _

"_But my mom said not to…"_

"_But I say you can. Just trust me."_

_This woman had made him feel loved again. Booth didn't know why, but she did. She hugged him just like his mother used to; he could trust her. If she said it was okay it had to be, right? Booth reached for her hand and the nurse pulled him on top of her. _

"_Touch me, Seeley."_

"_Where?"_

"_Anywhere you'd like, baby."_

_Booth didn't know what to do, so he just lied on top of the woman. _

_The nurse sighed, and grabbed the boy's tiny hand. She placed it on top of her naked breast. "Right there, baby."_

_Booth kept his hand where it was, he didn't move it at all. He didn't know what to do. _

"_Move your hand baby… Rub me with your fingers."_

_Booth listened, he didn't want to get hit like his dad hit him. The lady began to make some weird noises that Booth had never heard before in his life. "Good tha- oh, Seeley!" the woman screamed out._

_Booth didn't know what was going on, he was just rubbing and pulling at this lady and she was crying. Oh no, was she hurting her?_

"_Are you okay?" the boy asked, "Am I hurting you?" _

"_No, I'm fine, baby. More…. I-I need more…"_

_Booth listened but he still wasn't feeling good. He felt the same as he did before; tired and hopeless. _

"_Are you going to take me and my brother to get checked out now?" Booth asked._

"_Later, my sweet. Just keep doing what you're doing."_

"_No!" Booth replied. "I am not feeling good and you aren't taking me and my brother to a doctor! I'm going to find it myself!"_

"_Seeley, no, you-you can't leave!"_

"_I'm eleven years old! I can do whatever I want!"_

_The nurse got off the bed and ran after him, she pulled on his arms and picked him up and brought him back to the bed. This time he was the one lying down on it. The woman got on top of him and her breasts were in his face. Booth felt like he couldn't breathe. He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. _

_Suddenly, the game changed. The nurse snaked her hand down to the boy's crotch and Booth yelped. "You can't touch me there!" the boy muffled out from under her breasts. _

"_Don't you feel good?" the nurse whispered._

"_No! I don't!" Booth pushed as hard as he could, and the lady fell off of him and onto the floor. The boy ran as fast as he could to the door, opened it, and ran to his brother who was sitting on the floor. "Jared, we need to leave. Now!" he roared._

_Jared listened and the two ran off together down the endless hallways._

_The boys found a doctor, and Booth told him what needed to be done. Of course he didn't tell him about the nurse, he himself didn't know what had just happened. He told the doctor that a police man sent them here to get checked out because he didn't believe that their father hurt them. _

_The doctor rarely listened; he had better things to do. He set them two up with a male nurse and the man took sloppy x-rays. _

_Booth and Jared waited in the designated waiting room for hours, six to be exact. Jared fell asleep, but Booth had to stay awake because at any moment the results would come in. _

_Finally, after six hours and twenty three minutes the boys were given the results. The bruises were from falling down the stairs, is what the staff had concluded. "That's wrong!" Booth protested. "He pushed us down the stairs, how can't you tell!"_

"_That's because I didn't." The sobered up enough man replied. _

"_D- Dad, what are you doing here?" Booth asked, terrified. _

"_I've been looking for you boys all day, you two ran off again playing your little games, didn't you?"_

"_No. We didn't. We came here to show these people what you've done to us!"_

"_Seeley, you simply fell down the stairs. I saw you do it. The both of you, just playing your games."_

"_These are your sons, sir?" The attendant asked._

"_Yes, sir. These are my boys. Can I take them home now?"_

"_No!" Booth screamed, "Don't make us go with him!"_

"_Don't be silly, Seeley. I'll make sure you won't get hurt again, I'll put up gates on the stairs." The father said nervously._

_The attendant bought it, he let the two troublemaking boys go home with the man who started it all._

Booth told Cam that he never found out who the molester was, or the idiotic doctors. If they were just as stupid back then, how could they be any better now? If they couldn't tell between a fall down the stairs, and a forced fall down the stairs, who says they could figure anything else out?

Cam felt so sorry; she wanted to tell him how sorry she was.

Booth just sat on the stretcher, uncomfortable as she'd ever seen him. He did everything asked, but very unenthusiastically. He exhaled into their stupid tubes, allowed blood to be drawn from his arm, let his eyes get dozens of lights shone into them, almost throwing up when they put the stick down his throat. Finally, after 33 minutes, Cam was counting; they finished their little check up on Booth.

Everything was fine, just like Booth had said. The problem had to be emotional then, Cam drilled into her brain. She had to remember to tell Sweets tomorrow; the psychologist had left when the paramedics arrived, he didn't want to face the wrath of Booth later.

After the officials had cleaned up all of their supplies and crew, they waved while walking out the door and Cam smiled back but Booth was miserable. His face showed it, his body language showed it.

Cam closed the door behind the last man and turned back to Booth only to find he wasn't there.

"Seeley?" she questioned as she walked around the corner into his room. He was looking out the window, at the city. Booth always loved a view.

"You know I hate medicals." Booth steamed, not turning away from the window.

"I didn't call them, I swear. I called Sweets because I thought he could help. I didn't think he'd bring a whole armada with him."

"Well you thought wrong, Camille!" Booth yelled.

There was silence for a few moments.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to yell…" Booth apologized, "You- you didn't tell Sweets why I hate doctors, right?" his voice shook.

"No, Seeley, I'd never do that."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

More silence.

"A- Are you still drunk?" Cam asked.

"Cam, it's like four in the morning, I'm fine."

"Do you want to talk about it now?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Booth was still looking out the window when he began.

"Um… I'm having dreams."

"Well, I know that, Seeley."

Booth grew rigid. He didn't know what to say. So he just leaned against the window sill and breathed in the city.

Cam knew what it was, what all of this tension and anger and grief was; Booth was scared. He would never admit it to her, but she knew. He was like this, but not nearly half as bad, when he told her about the missions, and the abuse and all of his childhood drama. He knew he could trust her, he just didn't want to let it out; he didn't want to be seen as weak. Of course Cam saw it now; she'd been so blind to it before. She finally saw what Booth was, who Booth was; a scared man too tough to lose his pride.

He'd been so afraid and now Cam finally saw it. She wanted to hug him, to kiss him and tell him that everything would be okay, but she stood still. She didn't want to feel sorry for him, she knew Booth wouldn't want that; he was too strong for that. So Cam waited until she couldn't take it any longer.

"What kind of dreams are you having?"

Booth flinched at the words, "I already told you; bad ones."

"What kind of bad?" she said softly.

"You know, maybe I don't want to talk about this now…" Booth muttered as he brushed past her and into the hallway.

Cam was having enough of this; didn't he know that the only way to be strong was to let others know? So they could help, they could see, they could understand how strong he really was. She turned and walked after him.

"And maybe you do." Cam said turning him around to face her. Booth wouldn't make eye contact, "Seeley, look at me…" she palmed his face. Booth fought it until he could no longer and he was defeated by Cam's will.

"W- What if I'm not ready to talk about it?" he whispered.

"What if you're scared?" Cam replied.

Booth's eyes widened. She caught him. He knew it, and Cam knew he knew it. "What if it's too dangerous for you to know about?"

"What happened to you would tell me anything, no matter how bad it got?" Cam said, reminiscing over the past for the slightest moment.

"I said that when we were together, we're not together anymore Camille. I don't have to tell you squat," his tone growing heavy.

"What if I want to know? What if I want to help? What if I don't want to lose you again?" her voice cracked, the emotion seeping through.

"What if being lost is better than this?" Booth finally admitted, his eyes watering in the slightest moment.

"Don't you- don't you say that…" Cam replied, pulling him into her embrace.

Booth rejected for the slightest moment, but finally fell into her body. He missed this, being held by someone who cared. Before Cam he had no one, and after Cam, well, that was just a nightmare. All his relationships were sex; strictly sex. Booth didn't let on to anything he had done, and his partners never asked. But with Cam it was different, more whole. Cam didn't care how much it hurt him, or hurt her; she wanted to know what was boiling up in his head. She wanted to know everything about him, and that's why she left him. That was the only reason Booth could come up with as to why she broke it off. He gave her everything, but maybe everything was too much. Of course Booth had never asked why, he just obeyed.

Maybe, someday, when they were off on better terms they could talk about it. Right now there was still too much spark, too much tension to do anything that might compromise their unit. Without Booth, the Jeffersonian would have no cases, and without Cam the team would just be back on bones. They needed both to function, they couldn't just end that. Booth had went over this in his mind so many times, and reminded himself of it every time he felt like saying, _doing_, something.

Drifting out of his mind and back to reality he became aware that the couple were still in each other's arms. Neither wanted to let go until the other did so first.

Booth's breathing had steadied, Cam noticed. She was glad for that. She really needed to know what was going on in his mind, but she would let it go for tonight; but only tonight. She owed him that much. He's been through enough tonight, this morning, whatever. Cam decided they would both take the day off tomorrow; she didn't care if Booth didn't like it. He wasn't leaving this apartment until he told her something, anything.

For a few more moments they were still, the only noise was the sound of their breathing. Cam thought about how much trouble Booth might really be in, what he wasn't telling her, and this was beginning to upset her. She didn't show on the outside; well, at least she didn't think so. It wasn't until Booth began to feel a wetness on his shoulders.

Apparently, Cam had been crying. Albeit, silently, it was still enough for Booth to turn into his 'selfless mode'.

"Cam…" he whispered, pulling away slightly and wiping one of her tears away, "what's wrong?"

That only made the unknowing tears fall harder.

"Camille, what's wrong, please." Booth questioned, wiping away more tears.

Cam just looked up at him with that face, _that face_; the one he fell in love with. Her lip was quivering from trying to hold back the tears and that just made Booth feel even worse. He wanted her pain to stop. He knew he was causing her pain, and it just, it had to stop. "Cam, I'm sorry. Stop crying, please. I'm going to be fine. We're going to be fine. You won't lose me I promise; I would never do that to you again, just stop crying please. I hate seeing you cry, you know that."

Cam smiled through wet eyes up at Booth, "I'm sorry…"

"No, baby, don't be," Booth said, rubbing her back, his eyes were starting to water. Was what just happened truly enough to make Camille Saroyan, from the _Bronx_, cry?

Booth didn't notice his slip up, until he came back from his mind once again and saw Cam looking at him with wide eyes.

He'd said it. The word.

The word that broke them up in the first place.

Booth's face riddled with apology, he stared down at Cam who had grown rigid in his arms.

"Cam, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Cam's look said it all. She put her hands on his broad chest and pushed him away from her.

"Camille, please!"

"I don't want to hear it, Seeley," she strut away, "Goodnight." She closed the door to his room. Booth guessed he'd be sleeping on the couch.

He was wrong.


End file.
